Bonnie In A Bubble
- 24 hours ago
- 4 min read
By Bonnie Fishman / Palo Alto, Calif.
My family has a few expressions that are so fitting for my circumstances now–the journey of a stem cell transplant to cure an aggressive form of lymphoma. We say, “You have NO idea!” Or “You don’t know the half of it!” And if it’s really, really awful, and I want to walk away and not deal with the whole mess, I say, “I just can’t!”
On April 17, at Stanford Hospital in Palo Alto, my T-cells were removed from my blood and shipped off to a lab in New Jersey, so that they could be genetically modified in order to kill off my cancer cells. On May 16, I began chemotherapy for three days to weaken the cancer cells. Then the modified cells were returned to my body through an infusion in my chest by catheter on May 21. All very sci-fi. This was the beginning of Bonnie-in-a Bubble isolation.
During my two-week hospital stay, the engineered cells were busy multiplying and “eating” the cancer cells. Sounds pretty easy, huh? Au contraire. You have NO idea! I felt like I got hit by a truck. While my body was busy attacking the enemy, I had a high fever, I ached all over, I had neurotoxicity where I was confused, I couldn’t remember what you might have told me an hour ago, I had terrible tremors, and I could hardly get out of bed. Did I leave anything out? I couldn’t type, think, read, do puzzles or basically feed myself. You don’t know the half of it!
As far as eating goes, I was on an unrestricted diet. Patients could order whatever they wanted from 6 am to 8 pm. The menu was quite extensive, particularly for a hospital. I learned how to dodge food that I knew was going to be inedible. I zeroed in on safe choices. Breakfast was steel-cut oats, cottage cheese, and blueberries. Every day for two weeks. Rule No. 1: don’t drink the coffee. I had Starbucks delivered after breakfast!
My usual choices for dinner were mac ’n’ cheese, peas, and hamburgers. I kept it simple. Boring, yet simple. It didn’t really matter because I had no appetite anyway.
Finally, after two weeks in the hospital, I was cleared to go “home,” to a one--bedroom suite in a nearby hotel where I live in isolation with a caregiver for the next 2 1/2 weeks. My caregiver rotation has been my sisters, my husband, my cousin Carol from Minneapolis, and my lifelong friend, Elissa.
The point of not being able to go to my real home is that transplant patients need to be close to the hospital in case something goes awry and they need to get medical help quickly. Also, every three days I’ve been visiting the cancer clinic for labs, vitals, consultations. Last Monday, my sister Marcia and I were assigned a treatment room in the furthest hallway, in the last room. We had already been waiting in the reception area to get in there since 3:15 pm. Now it was 4:30 pm. We waited and waited. At 5:45 pm, the PA came in very apologetics They had forgotten about us. It was a miscommunication between two PAs. It was so late that I was getting ready to order pizza!
I’ve been settled in at the hotel since June 11, but I’m planning on going home on Thursday, June 18. The highlight of my day is ordering food from Grubhub, something I’ve never done before because I rarely eat out or get food brought in. I’m so much happier cooking for Bob and me at home, AND the meals are much better.
The good news about the deliveries here is that Palo Alto has some great restaurants. It has the most diverse ethnic food imaginable, from Burmese to Persian to Thai to Indian to dumpling houses. Unusual tacos? Wonderful salads? Phenomenal grilled sandwiches? Seafood restaurants? Palo Alto has it all. We’ve managed to mix it up and try everything.
I have another week of isolation. It’s been lonely for sure. I physically don’t feel normal yet. A stem cell transplant is brutal on your body, so it will take weeks if not months to regain my strength. My brain is still foggy and I can’t string thoughts together. I have trouble processing what someone is telling me. So not my style!
All that being said, I’m grateful for the opportunity to have had this treatment. Out of all the people in this country who would benefit from the transplant, only 20 percent get it. Some of these people know about it, while others live in an area where it’s not available. I’m hoping I will be cured and I’m done with four years of dealing with cancer. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
Bonnie Fishman attended the Cordon Bleu Cookery School in London. Later, she owned and operated Bonnie’s Patisserie in Southfield, Mich. and Bonnie’s Kitchen and Catering in Bloomfield Hills, Mich. She has taught cooking for over 35 years and created hundreds of recipes. She is now living in Northern California.
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